Told You So
by DeathandJunkfood
Summary: Just some good ole' Winchestery hurt/comfort. Set in season two. A unexpectedly large werewolf pack injures the boys, and Dean tries to get his brother back to Bobby's house as quickly as possible. A one-shot of brotherly love. (strictly brotherly. No wincest)


**Disclaimer... I do not own Supernatural. A.N. at the bottom.**

"I _told_ you-"

"I know"

"But I _said_ -"

"Shut _up_ Sammy"

Dean concentrated on the darkened road ahead of them, his eyes starting to flutter from exhaustion. Beside him, Sam was worse, clutching a broken wrist with his good hand, and using his elbow to hold a gauze pad against a set of deep claw marks across his stomach. Dean had a dislocated shoulder that hung awkwardly and a few scratches, but he was still fit to drive. Mostly. Luckily, they were close to Bobby's house, but he was still driving one handed.

"I _told_ you" Sam grumbled again, wiggling against the seat back in a futile effort to get more comfortable.

"Ok, fine, you told me. What do you wanna hear; you're right, you're always right? No? Ok, be quiet and concentrate on staying awake, I don't like the look of that lump on your noggin, little brother"

Sam pulled a bitch face, but shut up. Dean eyed his little brother with concern, Sammy's hazel eyes looked dozy and confused, and there was a good sized lump where a werewolf had flung him against an unforgiving brick wall.

Dean bit his lip, and drove faster.

Bobby's house was glowing and the Winchesters sighed simultaneously in relief. That house was the closest thing they had to a home, apart from the Impala of course, which had always sheltered them.

Sam had his head resting on the seat back, and his face was twisted with pain, breathing in shallow gasps as Dean pulled into Singer's Salvage Yard.

Dean exited the Impala and hastily moved around the front to Sam's side. The younger Winchester was attempting to manoeuvre his long, lanky frame from the car, but kept hitting his head on the roof.

Dean bent down, slinging his brother's good arm over his shoulders and straightening up with a groan. "Easy there, Sammy. I gotcha"

Sam nodded, too tired to protest being helped and stumbled with Dean up the stairs to Bobby's front door. Dean thumped it with a heavy work boot. "Bobby!" he yelled.

He heard the sounds of pounding footsteps, and then the door swung open. Bobby gaped at them for a second, before recovering himself. "What in the Hell happened to you, boys?"

"Werewolves" Dean said, relaxing slightly as Bobby grabbed Sam, who was starting to tip over.

"I _told_ you" Sam perked up enough to mutter.

"You're like a broken record" Dean grumbled as they staggered into the living room like the losers like the losers in a three legged race.

"Why didn't you take him to the hospital, with that wrist?" Bobby asked as he moved around the room gathering medical supplies. Sammy sagged onto the couch against Dean's shoulder and Dean smoothed his little brother's hair away from his face automatically, before catching himself and scowling as if somebody had caught him actually showing affection.

"I figured the claw marks might be a bit hard to explain, 'sides, you were closer"

"Ah" Bobby said, remembering, "werewolves"

"Told you"

Bobby regarded Sam with some concern. "How long has he been like this?"

"I think he has a concussion, Bobby, those wolves smacked him around pretty good"

Bobby passed out various pills and capsules. "These are the good stuff" he advised Dean, "You could have a broken leg and be square dancing with these babies"

Dean raised his eyebrows.

He shook Sammy gently until he woke from his stupor, handing him the pills, which he downed automatically.

"Ok, Sam, I'm going to set your wrist now" Bobby said quietly, after they waited a few minutes for the drugs to kick in. Sam made a face.

Dean held his brother firmly, murmuring, "s'ok little brother, s'ok, now" as Bobby grasped the wrist, and pulled it gently but firmly into place, before splinting it tidily.

"Dean has a dislocated shoulder" Sam managed to gasp, as he cradled his arm against his chest.

"Bandage Sammy's cuts first, I'm fine"

Sam shook his head violently, glaring at Dean.

Bobby sighed. Whenever these two came to be patched up, it was always the same. Dean would ignore his own injuries and insist he helped Sam first, but Sam always got annoyed and pointed him towards Dean. They were impossible.

So, he turned his best now-you-listen-here-boy face on Dean, and gestured for him to take off his coat. Dean complied, grudgingly, and Bobby let out a whistle of air when he saw how swollen and bruised Dean's shoulder was.

Sam nodded smugly, even though he was half tipped over now that Dean wasn't supporting him anymore. Bobby popped the arm back into place as quickly and gently as possible, and didn't say anything as the older Winchester hissed in pain.

"Right, let's see to Sam's claw marks"

Sam's wounds were carefully dressed, and a few stitches put into the nastier ones. He didn't say a word, or let even a whimper escape his lips. Bobby felt an ache for the boys. Their father had trained them like soldiers, to never show pain even when they were badly hurt. Sam didn't complain when Dean hauled him to his feet off of Bobby's kitchen table, and sank onto the couch with him. Bobby smiled as Sam immediately slumped into Dean's side, head falling against Dean's shoulder.

"Easy, Sammy, s'ok now"

Bobby handed Dean an ice pack, and he held it against the lump on Sam's head.

"Thanks, Bobby" he said quietly.

"No problem. But what in God's name happened? You boys have been taking down werewolves since you were thirteen"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just one werewolf, or even two. It was a whole pack. A dozen or more"

Bobby whistled softly. You didn't often hear of werewolves getting into packs that big. Too hard to hide, and they wouldn't be able to get enough food without drawing attention.

"Sammy got the worst of it, Bobby; they were tossing him about like a chew toy. He'd gone all limp and I thought-" Dean swallowed, not finishing his sentence.

Bobby knew what Dean had thought, and it was enough to explain why the older Winchester had driven straight here in a panic, instead of entrusting Sam to the local hospital.

"What happened to the werewolves?" Bobby asked.

"I tossed a jug of kerosene in their barn with a lit match. The explosion prolly took most of them out but I should drive up there to check"

"You ain't going nowhere. That's way too many monsters for one injured hunter to gank. You keep your ass on that couch, boy, and we'll go check it out in a few days"

Sam stirred, and Dean automatically adjusted his grip. "Ok, Bobby"

Bobby gave an 'hmph' and levered himself out of his chair, heading upstairs. He would've offered Dean the spare room, but he knew the hunter wouldn't take it. He'd sleep better on the couch, knowing that his brother was beside him.

When he came back downstairs an hour later, the brothers were slumped against each other, with dirty faces and bloody bandages, but looking so very young and pale beneath the grime. Dean's arm was wrapped around Sam, and Sam's floppy head was tilted onto Dean's shoulder, snoring softly. Bobby smiled softly at the sight of them even as his heart ached for them, and tossed a blanket over them.

 **A.N. Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! I kinda felt like i was getting bogged down in complicated storylines, and wanted to write something short, sweet and brotherly, from back in the days when we had a monster of the week, and they had prank wars and stupid arguments. Pretty please review!**


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